


Cinderbrick Stout, Handle with Care

by Stardust_Galaxy



Category: Bastion (Video Game)
Genre: Bonding, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-04-20 01:32:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14250192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stardust_Galaxy/pseuds/Stardust_Galaxy
Summary: Jawson Bog eats a person’s mind, drives ‘em mad, but there he was. Worse for wear but alive. Or maybe even worse.Kid never much cared to speak of it.An after Jawson Bog hurt/comfort fic from the pov of Rucks.





	1. Drink it Down

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy!!

Jawson Bog eats a person’s mind, drives ‘em mad, but there he was. Worse for wear but alive. Or maybe even worse. 

Kid never much cared to speak of it. 

Takes the Bastion a while to track down the next shard, and in the meantime, we saw glimpses of Jawson Bog on the Bastion. Zia noticed it first. 

Figures the old stranger that doesn’t even ask his name doesn’t even notice the Kid seepin’ maddness around him. 

Quiet hummin’, foggy vacant stares, jumpin’ like a lunkhead. And somethin’ else. Neither of us can put our finger on it yet, but it’s stewin’. Maybe that lungblossom got to the Kid after all. Zia takes to making sure that either her or the squirt is around the Kid, somethin’ not from the Bog. I’m not sure it helps. 

The Kid never talked much before, but he barely gives us more than a greetin’ in the morning. Some mornings not even that. Makes an old man regret not having much to say before. The Kid was just looking for someone to talk with, and I didn’t know what to say.  
I still don’t. 

Zia talks to him. About the amazing view in the sky, buildin’ a garden near the Memorial, and tryin’ some new recipes. 

He doesn’t say anythin’, just leans on her shoulder and lets her stroke his hair. Calloused hands workin' the knots in his hair. They stay there for an hour, her voice filling the air with old war songs turned soft. 

Night fell with storm clouds in the sky buckin’ somethin’ fierce. Zia served up dinner in the kitchen where the fire already heated up the room and the rain couldn’t reach. It may have been just the three of us, but if I shut my eyes, I could almost imagine being back at the Soul Regret on a late night, Rondy the Bartender cleaning up some glasses and me on a stool smokin’ a nice pipe. 

Instead it’s just me, Zia, and the Kid. Small, but a fine crew. If only one third of the crew wasn’t sick with maddness. The Kid’s shoved between me and Zia, eatin’ quietly, slowly, but he nods to Zia when she talks. She tries to strike up a conversation with me. I could’ve given better responses, but I don’t. I just do what I can. When she starts runnin’ out of things to talk about, fumblin’ over her words, I pick up the conversation, give her a break. I tell her about my brothers, the Triggers. Truly, they really were the bravest men I ever knew. Zia was excited to hear me talkin’ about somethin’ involvin’ myself, her eyes sparklin’ like a star. 

Maybe it’s the cinderbrick stout that’s gotten to me, warm and solid in my guts, or maybe it’s wantin’ to finally talk to the Kid, even though…even though it’s probably too late. But I talk. I fill the rest of the night of just their stories alone. 

In just a few hours time, Zia’s noddin’ off and the Kid’s already asleep on her shoulder. The storm’s still goin’ on outside, so I shut the door and grabbed the blankets Zia brought in for the Kid. The Kid twitched in his sleep whenever the thunder cracked its whip, neither of us can imagine just what he saw in that hellhole, what happened, I wish the thunder wasn’t reminding him of. I’d blame the stout still sitting heavy in me as I made sure they were tucked in tight and started humming one of Zia’s favorites. I doubt it helped them at all, it was just for me, sittin’ up late on a stormy night.


	2. Try not to Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!
> 
> My one goal for this end of the year was to finish this fic! It's been a doozy. I moved down to be a full time student for university. I developed tendonitis in BOTH wrists. But as a gift to myself and a gift to you, this fandom, is this. I'm not a writer by trade but I like to think of myself as one still, as slow as I am.  
> This fandom is tiny and this is my very first fanfiction I'm posting for people to see, I hope I contributed well! I hope you enjoy this!

We’ll have all the time in the world once this mess is over. But that doesn’t stop the present. Doesn’t stop our own deadlines. Kid’s our only hope of makin’ any real progress. So Zia n me, well, we took care of him.  
As best we could at least. There’s no healers in this joint. Just a useless old man and a girl.  
Now I’m gettin’ downright depressin’- better stop that.  
Zia goes to bed early today, she’s been up since late last night; the Kid had a nightmare, she only knew cause’a the squirt tellin’ her.  
Kid didn’t scream. Didn’t cry. Didn’t make a sound. Huddled himself in a corner and rocked himself. Zia stayed with him right on through it. Took his fingers out from diggin’ into calloused palms and held him close. Sang him her songs as she rubbed his back. Comfortin’. Like someone should be when someone’s hurtin’.  
Unlike me. Didn’t hear a damn thing. Can’t really help either of them kids.  
Gettin’ down on myself again- gotta stop that. This stout ain’t helpin’ much. Not tonight at least.  
Distillery is quiet.  
Not that it’d be loud here ever. There’s only three people total, and only two a’ us come here. Speak of the devil- Kid just showed up.  
No sound, no nothin’. Like he’s tryin’ to hide. From what? Not sure. Bog’s still got the kid in its clutches. I’ll keep to myself so he’s not too startled when he notices. He’s good at that still.  
Kid sidles up onto the barstool next to me. Grabbed a bottle of dreadrum. No glass. No cap. Kid’s plannin’ on drinkin’ it all.  
I’m not about to stop him. Not when I’ve got my own crutch.  
Not sure how long the time passes, but it does, Kid finishes off the entire bottle he pulled. Kid knew how to knock it back. Learned from the Wall.  
Or maybe not.  
WHAM- Kid doesn’t yelp or nothin’ but he does fall flat on his ass. Not even botherin’ to pull himself up. He slumps. Let’s gravity do the rest and lets himself go down to the ground. He’s tryin’ not to think. It ain’t gonna work. Even with a whole bottle of dreadrum.  
Kid doesn’t move after that.  
Guess for once an old man can do something. I get off my own stool and get behind the Kid. Movin’ him so he won’t throw up on himself. He curls in on himself. Really makes someone remember the Kid really is just a kid. We stay like that for a bit. Kid just stared at the floor, quiet, still. I sat down behind him now, keep a hand on his shoulder. I don’t know what to do.  
I’m an old man, stuck in my ways. Stuck in an apocalypse of my own makin’. With others havin’ to clean up my mess. Fixin' it where I can’t. S’my fault the Kid is where he is.  
But- Zia’s here. Zia got through to the Kid. Not dead yet, maybe I can try something.  
Floor’s never been the most comfortable of places, drunk or not. Takes a moment since the Kid’s so drunk but I managed to get him up, he decided to lean on me. Held him like he were family. Shouldered my arm around him. Couldn’t really think of what to do besides hum one of Zia’s songs. I’m not a singer, but anyone can hum a diddy. One of Zia’s versions will do. Must be doin’ the trick too- since after a few minutes, Kid decided to just hold on anchorin’ himself t’me like a prickler. I rocked him- back and forth- wonder if his mother was able to do this fer him before the Wall took him.  
Guess I’ll have to do for now. I held the Kid there for the night. He cried at one point- I’ll blame the rum. I told him it’d be okay and pet his head- Can’t blame the stout. At some point I spouted off the alphabet for him. Guess that was okay too. He fell asleep near the end, near shoved himself into my lap- still blame the rum.  
Kid's not out of the woods yet, and he's still got a job to finish. But I think so long as I try along with Zia, we can make it to the end with the Kid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this!! Cheers to all the fanfic writers and readers!!!


End file.
